


♦ Saving Me

by EvelynLawliet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Possessive!Castiel, blowjob, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 18:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynLawliet/pseuds/EvelynLawliet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel can't take it anymore, he's got to get out of there, and, in order to do so, he has to find a reason to keep on going. That reason is Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	♦ Saving Me

**Author's Note:**

> Not much to say here, only a Destiel AU with shameless smut.

Most of the time, Castiel only curled around himself, his mind trying to block the last few days, in which he had gone through so much pain and fear. Every inch of his body ached, the shocks still running along his spine as he braces his legs, moving back and forth without a stop, somehow trying to bring the comfort nobody else would give him.

He’s scared. He knows they can come back at any time, open that little glass door on the ceiling and do whatever their sick and twisted minds decide to. Once a day they throw new clothes at him, neat and clean. The blue-eyed man can only imagine the bastards take delight at ripping them to shreds.

It’s the worst situation he could ever get into. Not even in his most terrifying nightmare could he create such horror. He fears for his life. On the third day they had given him some water and a piece of old bread, but nothing else. Sincerely, he’s lost count of the time since then. If it has been a day or a month, it doesn’t really make a difference anymore. He knows death awaits him just around the nearest corner.

And, to be honest, he doesn’t know if he’s willing to keep on fighting. What reason does he have to do it? It’s not like there’s someone out there waiting or looking for him. He doesn’t have any friends, his family won’t talk to him since he told them he’s day, and he doesn’t have a boyfriend to rely on. Maybe someone from work would remember him. Or maybe someone there is the reason why he can barely walk more than three steps, mainly because there are iron chains around his ankles, stopping him from even trying to escape.

He had tried it, though, on the second day. His punishment had been enough to make it clear that he shouldn’t attempt one more time, and the dried blood under his nose and striking down his forehead are there to remind him of it.

Castiel has to find a reason to save himself, but so far he’s got nothing, not a single damned thing that would make him want to stick around. He closes his eyes, using his last piece of strength to do so. It takes a while and some concentration, but after a few moments, a face crawls its way before his eyes.

Bright green eyes are the first thing he sees, looking straight at him with such intensity that only increases when he notices the pleasant curl of his lips. There are freckles doting his face, giving him some kind of juvenile tease, as it the sight made him happy for no apparent reason. Raising his gaze the slightest of bits, Castiel sees the messy sandy-colored spikes that go so well with those emerald orbits.

A name pops in Castiel’s mind; Dean Winchester. Things start to slowly make sense as the minutes go by. Dean’s one of Castiel’s co-workers; ‘the new boy’, as many called him. They had exchanged a few words, but nothing that would make of him Castiel’s thing to hang onto. Or at least that would be the case, hadn’t the blue-eyed been desperate for his life.

But Castiel is and so he hands onto Dean, his eyes mostly. The dark-haired man makes it his mission to talk to the boy – who should be something like three to five years younger than him – at least one last time. He can do it; he can save himself. He just needs a plan that has to start with taking those chains out of his feet.

For that to happen, he’ll have to approach them and that kind of scares him. It means he’ll have to let them touch him. Castiel looks down to the blood dripping from his legs, underneath the pants he’s currently wearing. The blood looks fresh. Did they touch him already? He doesn’t know; doesn’t remember.

Sounds suddenly come from the ceiling; steps, no doubt. If they’re coming now, why is he bleeding? The dark-haired man touches his crotch, feeling the sticky wetness above the cloth. He raises his hand before his eyes and there’s something strange that curls in the pit of his stomach when he realizes it’s not blood; it’s bile. Did he vomit? When did it happen? Probably while he was thinking about his plan.

The sounds stop, and so does Castiel’s heart beating. He can hear them opening the little glass door. A man’s voice is the first thing that strikes the silence. “Ready for another one, pretty boy?” he asks with that horrible and terrifying voice.

Castiel knows they did something to him after that, but his brain must have blocked it, since when he sees himself again, he’s back at the dark room, naked and bleeding even more than before. He wishes he could have been awake at the time they touched him, so that he could try to catch the keys to the chains.

New clothes are carefully folded in a pile by his side, and suddenly he feels hope. Not because of his situation, but because he can finally find the strength he needed to see Dean. They will probably chase after him, but he knows he can do it; he can _feel_ it.

He stands up. His legs are shaking, and his head hurts as Hell, but he can bear it. The chains are still around his feet, and looking down he realizes he wasn’t so naked after all. Someone had dressed him in black social pants, probably thinking he wouldn’t be able to do so because of the chains. If it weren’t for his skinny figure, they would actually look good on him.

Rubbing his forehead because of the pain, Castiel bends over himself and gets dressed. The new clothes look like the ones he had been wearing on the day they got him, the only new accessory being the tan trench coat.

Looking around, he searches for something to clean himself. A used cloth is the best he finds, and so he tries to wipe off the blood. Once he drops the dirty piece, his hands are soaked on the red liquid. And then his eyes find the chains once more. What will he do with them?

Castiel looks up. He could try to reach the door from afar. It’s his only chance. Taking a deep breath, the blue-eyed stretches upwards and backwards, two of his fingers painting the glass door, leaving two stripes of blood, but that’s all. Nothing like a miracle happens; he’s still inside his ‘cage’.

He has to get out of there; he can’t stay in that place anymore. _Dean_ ; he has to see _Dean_. That’s when he finds something shiny on the furthest corner. The man approaches it and finds a nail. Not only once has he seen people in movies freeing themselves with said tool.

Reaching for it, Castiel tries the metal on the locks, hearing clicks. But the chains don’t open. He’s still trapped. Then realization dawns on him: he’ll have to wait for them again and try making an escape.

And so he waits. It doesn’t take long until the sounds of footsteps appear one more time, and just a moment later they’re opening the little glass door. Castiel swallows, his breath increases desperately, mainly because he’s anxious, but also because he’s afraid.

The dark-haired still has the nail inside his fisted hand as they get inside. He pretends to be more scared than he actually is. Something inside him says that he’s got to keep his normal behavior, or else they will be suspicious, and Castiel has never been a liar, who would say a good one.

“Such a scaredy-cat,” a man Castiel can’t really see mocks him. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll die soon enough.” He laughs and the sound makes the blue-eyed shiver, what only makes his raptor laugh even louder.

Slower than Castiel would have hoped, the same man approaches him. He runs his hands along Castiel’s body, the dark-haired not even daring to breathe. It’s a relief when the chains stop gripping around his ankles, and he knows it’s now or never.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel stabs the man’s eye with the nail and stands up as fast as he can. He can hear his raptor screaming out of pain, but it all feels something from out of this world. Perhaps it’s because of how fast he’s running, but everything seems like a blur.

Hands try to stop him, but it’s been time enough for his nails to grow, and he claws at them, feeling the blood getting stuck under his only weapon. It finishes when he reaches a locked door. No matter how much he kicks it, the wood won’t give in.

He’s about to give up when – for a miracle, it seems – the door opens. There are people screaming behind him, and Castiel continues his escape, realizing once he’s outside that the door wasn’t opened by the inside. A blonde woman stares at him as he runs past her. For a second, Castiel sees her eyes getting white, but he assumes it’s something from his imagination. She doesn’t try to stop him and he’s in no position of asking her why.

That’s when he realizes it; he’s out. He did it. He has escaped. His first instinct is to cry, but instead he keeps running until he can’t see the factory he has been kept locked in for probably a week or two. It’s a miracle that he even managed to survive that long.

Dean. The name strikes him as a lightning bolt as he sees himself in front of the building where he works. Of course his mind led him there; he didn’t know where else to look for the green-eyed man.

Castiel is very well aware of how destroyed he must look, but he enters anyway. The night has fallen and it’s probably sometime close to midnight. Dean won’t be there, he knows it. It’s too late to be at work.

Still, something tells him to head for Michael’s office. Michael Milton is Dean’s – pain in the ass, as the blonde said so himself – instructor guide, and consequently, his boss. The man takes the elevator, too tired to even think about using the stairs.

Once he gets out of the machine, he stops in front of a glass wall, only then realizing how bad he looks in fact. The tan trench-coat is hanging loosely from his left should, and there’s blood just all over him. His hair is clenching to his forehead because of it, his eyes are red, his skin is too pale and he can see bruises on his neck. There are probably more underneath his white – and red – button-down shirt.

A sound coming from the right startles him. That’s nothing more, nothing less than the direction to Michael’s office. Perhaps…He starts walking again, slightly faster than before, and sees blonde, spiky hair through the opened door.

“Dean…” Castiel whispers and the figure turns to see him.

It’s Dean, there’s no doubt. His green eyes are widened with surprise. “Cas?” he asks and the dark-haired man tries to smile as the other approaches him. “Cas! What the Hell happened to you?”

Castiel can feel strong hands on his body as Dean asks worried questions, but, instead of answering, he passes out.

**-~-**

When he wakes up again, Castiel is lying down. The room where he’s located is white and there are some machines around it. He would be startled, hadn’t he been so weak. Something is making some pressure on his finger and, looking down, he sees a clip that is controlling his heart rate.

“Cas?” an all too familiar voice asks.

Castiel turns his head to the left, towards where the sound had come from, to the sight of no one less than Dean Winchester. The blue-eyed man’s lips curl slightly up.

“Hello, Dean,” he greets in a tone lower than his own. “Where am I?”

“Hospital,” Dean answered without hesitation. “Man, I gotta ask, what happened to you? You were pretty messed up back there.”

Licking his lips, Castiel looks away. The memories come back to him in a hurry as he tries to control the tears stinging on the back of his eyes.

“You okay?” he hears Dean’s voice asking him. “Sorry, dude, I didn’t know you’d be like that, I thought I –”

“I was raped,” Castiel says in a husky voice, consequence of so much screaming. “Every single day. I wasn’t given food, nor water. I bled, I screamed, I cried…But no one came, not once; no matter how hard I wished for it.”

Dean stays quiet for a long time, probably allowing the information to sink in. Castiel doesn’t care about the silence. He has had enough time to get used to it on the past days, when all he had was himself.

“I didn’t know,” the green-eyed lets out after what feels like five minutes.

Castiel nods. Of course he didn’t know; how would he anyway? Not even Castiel himself remembers how they got him.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asks.

“How would you feel?” he shoots back, turning his frustrated and somehow mad gaze towards Dean. “I feel humiliated, hurt, mentally ill, scarred, hungry, thirsty, afraid, angry, and worst of all, filthy. I am disgusted with myself, that’s how I feel.”

“You say that as if it was my fault.”

The Novak man sighs, rubbing his hand on his eyes. Damn it, he hadn’t even realized what he was saying before the words were already out. He wants to blame it on the medication finding its way into his vein through the I.V., but he knows better.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

Finally allowing a tear to escape, Castiel hangs his head and presses the heel of his palm to his eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean hushes him, putting a hesitant and comforting hand on his back. “It’s over now, you’re safe.”

Safe. The word sounds so…Out of place. He doesn’t feel safe, he feels cautious, wanting to look at every corner, as if they could be there, just waiting to get him again. Dean’s hand brushes lightly down his spine, and it’s actually embarrassing when Castiel shivers, considering the situation they’re in.

Obviously, Dean noticed it, and so he runs his fingers up, spreading them on the back of Castiel’s head, right into his hair and it’s just _so_ good; so good to be touched with tender, to feel that someone cares for him. He turns to Dean, who is watching him with a calm and yet meaningful expression, as if telling him he’s there now and everything will be okay. And, for the moment, Castiel decides to believe him.

**-~-**

It’s five days before the doctors allow Castiel to go home. Dean has been there practically the whole time, only leaving to eat something or go to work. He told Castiel’s boss that the blue-eyed was sick and would come back as soon as possible. Castiel couldn’t put in words how glad he was for everything Dean was doing. To someone who would look at them from the outside, they looked like a couple, especially with the small touches that had already become natural to them, like a hand on Castiel’s leg, or fingers playing with his own.

“You’re coming home with me,” Dean states once they leave the hospital.

They’re in Dean’s car, who has insisted on giving Castiel a ride. The blue-eyed turns towards him, frowning slightly.

“Thank you, Dean, but you have already done too much for me; I can’t ask you for more.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” Dean points out. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”

Shaking his head and regretting doing so almost instantaneously because of the annoying pain that stings the center of his forehead, Castiel sighs.

“I mean it, Dean, there’s no need for this. I’m fine, I can take care of myself,” he assures.

The Winchester though, doesn’t seem to care about it, since he’s still heading to his own place.

“No, you can’t. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

Castiel swallows, because it’s like Dean really knows what he’s saying; as if they knew each other for their whole life. And, stopping to think about it, Castiel kind of agrees with this statement. It’s hard to remember clearly moments when Dean wasn’t there, no matter it has only been less than a week.

“Two days,” Castiel gives in.

“My ass, you’re staying there until I say so.”

Raising his eyebrows, Castiel can’t stop the slight smirk making its way to his lips.

“Dean, are you kidnapping me?” he asks.

Dean clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I guess that’s one way to see it.”

The Novak man laughs at that, slightly shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re unbelievable,” the dark-haired says with a fond smile.

“Oh, am I?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I rest my case.”

**-~-**

The doctors have given Castiel two weeks to rest before having to go back to work. He has been at Dean’s place for three days now and things are starting to get a bit weird between them. Well, at least that’s the way Castiel sees it.

Perhaps weird is not the right word. Uncomfortable would suit the situation better, he thinks. Because, really, it’s getting to his nerves the way Dean seems to be allergic to shirts while inside his apartment. A few days ago Castiel was afraid for his life. Now, he’s afraid for his sanity. The things he imagines himself doing to Dean are literally driving him crazy.

To be honest, he feels bad about it. I mean, he has just been abused a week ago and now he wants desperately to have sex? It’s kind of a twisted situation, if you ask him. But he can’t help it. Dean seems to have some kind of magnet that draws Castiel closer. And the blue-eyed is _so_ on board with the idea of being pulled.

Still, he isn’t sure if Dean is that willing to participate. Sure, they are extremely intimate; touching each other almost all the time they’re together. Like now, for example, when they’re on the couch watching a movie, Castiel’s head on Dean’s lap as the green-eyed runs his fingers through the Novak’s hair.

Okay, that’s a point in Castiel’s favor. But damn it, he doesn’t even know if Dean is gay! And if he is, how will Castiel know if he’s his type? Gosh, he feels like a teenager all over again.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?” he presses further.

Castiel licks his lips. It’s way too hard to concentrate with Dean touching him and looking him in the eyes, his posture so relaxed as his free arm rests on the back of the couch.

“Uh…Nothing important,” the dark-haired lies.

“Tell me.”

Damn it, why can’t he be satisfied with any of Castiel’s answers? And why can’t he put on a goddamned shirt? Castiel clears his throat, shifting a little under Dean’s gaze.

“You,” he whispers, looking down at the shirt Dean landed him, an Aerosmith one.

That’s it, he has ruined this. But you know what? He has gone through the worst part, might as well unload the whole crap.

“I mean, back there, at the factory, you were my reason to keep going.” Castiel sits up, shaking a little bit. “I had to find something to hang on to, and I chose you.”

Truth be told, he wants to bury himself under one of the comforters and never leave, but he’ll probably have to go home pretty soon, since Dean’s gonna kick him out any second now, so he refrains from doing so.

“Why me?” comes the question.

A _good_ question, Castiel thinks to himself.

“I have no idea. Okay, I do, actually. I don’t have many friends, nor family, so, yes, you were the first one I thought about.”

Castiel doesn’t know why he’s telling Dean that, ruining their friendship for nothing, but it’s kind of stuck and he wants to let it go. Chewing on his bottom lip, he waits for any kind of reaction from the man by his side, although he probably won’t have one that soon.

Dean’s quiet, and that’s never a good sign. Things are starting to get awkward – more than before, that is – and Castiel starts to stand up, ready to apologize and leave, but Dean holds his wrist, making him sit back.

“That’s…A lot to absorb,” Dean finally says. “In a good way,” he makes sure to add.

At first, Castiel doesn’t know exactly how to react to that. Should he do something? Dean turns towards him, his face serious as his lip worries between his teeth. His eyes are on Castiel’s mouth, and oh God, he’s approaching.

The blue-eyed sits still as Dean puts a hand on his cheek, cupping it, and leans in, sealing their lips. Castiel’s breath increases quickly, surprise taking over him. When Dean starts pulling away, probably wondering why Castiel isn’t kissing him back, the Novak digs his fingers on Dean’s hair and yanks him closer, smashing their lips together once more, this time actually reacting.

He can feel Dean’s grin against his lips and a strange feeling start curling around his chest. It’s pleasant, but confusing at the same time. Castiel eagerly gives room for Dean’s tongue to slide into his mouth when the blonde asks for entrance, licking at Castiel’s bottom lip. Dean’s taste is…Curious. A mixture of alcohol, sweets, and acid that Castiel quickly finds himself in love with.

Castiel is so into the moment, breathing little moans as Dean sucks his neck, hard enough for him to feel but not for a hickey to take place, that he doesn’t notice when he grinds up against Dean, who had laid on top of him at some point. He does notice, though, when Dean stops what he’s doing and leans back, making Castiel swallow.

“Sorry, I got caught in the moment,” he apologizes.

To his surprise, Dean shakes his head. “That’s not it, I only figured you wouldn’t want that because of, you know, everything.”

Nodding, Castiel licks at his lips, trying to ease the tingle from Dean’s absence that is running through them.

“I found out a week ago that your touches are much more of a comfort than a reminder,” the older man says in a low tone, a little embarrassed.

Dean shots an eyebrow right up, smirking a little. “A week ago?”

Redoing the math on his mind, Castiel frowns. “Well, a little more. I don’t quite remember when you took me to the hospital, and…”

“Cas?” Dean interrupts him.

“Yeah?”

“You’re overthinking it,” he says fondly and leans down once more on the man’s pale skin, a bit rougher this time.

Having to contain a shiver, Castiel digs his blunt nails on Dean’s shoulders when the blonde starts licking, and biting, and sucking, and barely allowing Castiel to breathe while teasing his neck. Damn it, Dean has found his weak spot. Castiel has to bite his lips in order to keep a moan from slipping through them at the thought of what Dean could do to his neck.

He doesn’t have time enough to think about it, though, since Dean decides to trail down, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on Castiel’s body along the way from his shoulders to his throat. The Winchester makes a momentary pause to slide Castiel’s landed shirt off in order to give himself more room to work with, getting the chance to do the same with his own.

Not able to do much more than clenching against the heat of Dean’s body, Castiel scratches down the man’s chest when their cocks meet on a sharp thrust from Dean’s part to which Castiel can’t seem to find an objection against.

“Gonna make you forget it, Cas. Gonna make that so good you won’t even remember it,” Dean promises.

Choosing to believe him, Castiel allows his co-worker to take his claim. Dean quickly works Castiel’s zipper open while nosing at his jaw. Once his hand wraps around Castiel’s hot erection, the dark-haired rolls his eyes back, not caring to hold his moan back anymore.

From somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers he also wants to touch Dean, but as soon as his hand heads towards the green-eyed man’s fly, the blonde slaps it away, shaking his head.

“Just you today,” he says.

Castiel is onboard with that too, although he would very much like to pleasure Dean. Still, when the man’s thumb start rubbing the slit on the top of his cock, Castiel has a few problems even remembering his name, so skilled is Dean’s hand.

It starts with slow pumps, Dean’s fingers lose around him as he nibbles the shell of Castiel’s ear. And then, all of a sudden, Dean starts to move faster, his fist curling in all the right ways to make Castiel loll his head back and shut his eyes tightly.

The surprises only keep on, and when he least expects it, Dean bends over and licks a stripe up his cock, making Castiel scream. “Gonna take care of you; let me take care of you, baby,” he asks and all Castiel can do is nod frantically.

Dean curls his tongue along the base of Castiel’s cock, getting it all slick with spit before sinking his mouth all the way down and staying there enough time for his mouth to become maddeningly hot before starting to bob his head until he’s deep throating him like he was made for it.

God damn it, Castiel isn’t sure how long this will last if Dean keeps that rhythm. Things only get worse when he quickens his move and one of his hands play with Castiel’s balls, massaging and rolling them through his fingers.

Castiel digs his fingers into his hair, moaning as loudly as his lungs will allow him. “Damn it, _Dean_ ,” he breathes.

As if answering to the praise, Dean slides his thumb on the place just behind his balls, a place Castiel finds to be very sensitive to his touch, and holds Castiel’s hips down with his free hand, scratching at the skin.

“My good little boy,” Dean whispers before gagging on Castiel’s cock once again.

It doesn’t matter that Castiel is older, this is just _hot_. He starts thrusting up to meet Dean’s mouth and Dean allows him to fuck past his lips. Castiel could come only by looking at the needy gaze on Dean’s expression, but he refrains it, wanting this to last longer.

To be honest, it doesn’t work the way he wanted it, since Dean has probably had a lot of training on the arts of blowjob. The thought makes Castiel growls and his fist tights on Dean’s hair, moving faster as his orgasm builds in.

“Say you’re mine,” Castiel commands it. “ _Say it_.”

“Yours, only yours,” Dean moans, and although the words get muffled on Castiel’s cock, it’s enough for the blue-eyed to come.

He sees white as Dean sucks him through it, leaking him clean afterwards and pushing himself up to kiss Castiel, who answers willingly.

“Never thought you were the possessive kinda guy,” Dean comments as they curl up against each other on the couch, Castiel’s back to Dean’s chest.

The Novak clears his throat a little embarrassed.

“Surprise?” he tries.

Dean breathes out a laugh. “A good kind of one,” he assures.

Castiel isn’t sure where this is going, or if they’re ever going to do this again, but now he knows why Dean was the one to pop into his mind back at that factory.

Dean cared for him, like no one has ever before, and, although Castiel hadn’t notice it back then, later on Dean tells him he’s had a crush on him ever since his job interview, when he had seen Castiel happily chatting with Kevin, an intern.

Slowly, Castiel realizes that, in a way, he _had_ paid attention to the few details; like Dean’s bringing him coffee once in a while, or meeting him ‘occasionally’ – because he had actually been waiting for something about fifteen minutes – at the parking lot.

Knowing that makes a warm and fond feeling curl on his chest. Dean was there when Castiel thought he had no one, and, somehow, he knew it; he knew that Dean would be the one to save him.


End file.
